It's Like Candy (13 page)

Eric couldn't wait to call River
the very next day. He sat with his uncle Pumpkin in the Dunkin' Donuts, nursing a cold cup of tea. He remembered her smile, her flowing hair, and thought that there was something different about her that definitely caught his interest.

“Something on your mind, Eric?” Pumpkin asked, staring at his quiet nephew, who hadn't said much to him all morning.

“Nah, just thinkin' about sumthin, Uncle Pumpkin . . . nothing important,” Eric replied.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“So how's things going with you?”

“I'm doin' me, Uncle Pumpkin, just tryin' to live in the world I was born in,” Eric casually stated.

Pumpkin nodded, studying his nephew. Pumpkin picked up his third cup of coffee and slowly sipped a few mouthfuls. It was only him and his nephew, his other comrades had left an hour ago. Pumpkin enjoyed these one-on-one talks with his nephew, because they rarely came. Eric was always too busy to spend time with him. And Pumpkin always cherished the moments he had with him. To Pumpkin, Eric looked just like his father, but was more humble and respectful.

“Uncle Pumpkin, I gotta be real wit' you, I met this woman last night. Shorty is gorgeous. I'm talking the total package,” he proclaimed.

Pumpkin smiled, hearing his nephew become excited over a certain woman. “You just met her yesterday?”

“Yeah, at some lounge in Brooklyn. But she's been on my mind all night, and this morning. You know me, Uncle Pumpkin, I never stress a woman. Pussy is pussy, but yo, shorty got me thinking about her. We talked for an hour, and I'm definitely feeling her,” he admitted.

“So call her. You got her number, right?”

“Yeah, she blessed me wit' the digits. But I ain't trying to sweat her like that . . . you know . . . you feel me, Unc?”

“Boy, what I always tell you about that pride and ego, especially over something you love?”

“Yo, love.”

“Listen, Eric, don't miss out on a good thing because you're too arrogant to give a beautiful woman a simple phone call. Y'all young boys today . . . I tell ya, in my generation, we get a number from a beautiful woman, and we called her that same night to tell her good night and made sure she arrived home safe. But y'all boys today, everything is always a game, a damn joke. You gonna wait around too long and then have the next man take what you could have had. Let me give you a little advice Eric, there is two things to aim at in life. First, get what you want, and after that, enjoy it. Only the wisest achieves the second.”

Eric sighed, looking at his uncle.

“I feel you, Uncle Pumpkin.”

“Boy, give that girl a call. You probably done lost out already, waiting this long. It's your life, enjoy it while you can.”

Eric smiled, then stood up, gave his uncle a loving hug, and told him he would talk to him later. He walked outside and pulled out his cell phone. He retrieved River's number from out of his wallet and started dialing up her number.

After the third ring, she picked up, and he was delighted to hear her sweet voice again.

“River?”

“Speaking.”

“Hey, beautiful, you remember me from last night? It's Eric.”

“Yeah, I remember you. So what's up?”

“Chillin', thought about you and decided to give you a call,” he mentioned.

“Ah, that's sweet.”

“Yeah, you know, wanted to hear your voice, say good morning, and all that good stuff.”

River smiled at his charm and manners. “Thank you. This is a first that a man has ever called me to tell me good morning. I'm grateful.”

“Well, you deserve it, beautiful,” Eric said. “I didn't wake you, though?”

“No. I was already up. ‘Bout to jump in the shower soon,” she said.

Eric smiled and became slightly aroused at the image. He wished he could join her in the shower.

“So, when can we link up? I really want to take you out.” he said.

“I'm free all week.”

“So what about tonight?”

“Tonight's good.”

Eric smiled. “Ayyite. Tonight, say around eight. That's cool wit' you?”

“Yeah.”

“So, where you stay at?”

“I live with family. I just moved here from Baltimore,” River lied.

“Oh, word, so you from B-more?”

“I was born in Brooklyn, and moved out to B-more when I was eight, with my mother. I just recently moved back to New York a few months ago.”

“Welcome back, luv. Shit, if you stayed out in B-more, then we would have never met.”

“I know.”

“River, listen, I gotta make this run, so let me know where I can scoop you up later on tonight.”

“You got a pen?”

“Yeah.”

River quickly gave Eric her address and Eric jotted it down on a piece of napkin he'd carried out from Dunkin' Donuts.

“Ayyite, I got it.”

“I'm gonna see you tonight, right?”

“Of course, beautiful. You know I'm there.”

River smiled. “‘Bye, Eric.” She said it so seductively and sweetly that it caused Eric to smile significantly.

“Damn!” he muttered to himself, thinking about her, River was a straight dime and more.

Eric had to make a quick run out to Brooklyn, to meet with one of his faithful clientele who'd called him earlier for a sale. He carried around four pounds of weed, that Purple Haze and Strawberry Hydro, which was popping off big in Brooklyn.

Eric knew that carrying around such large quantities of drugs was risky. But he trusted no one but himself, and felt more comfortable doing the transaction alone.

Eric's Brooklyn client was Willy, who had been in business with Eric for over a year now. Willy dealt only with Eric, because he was honest and was the one man in the game that he trusted. And Willy loved it when Eric would invite him to one of his parties, where Willy got free pussy because of his good business ventures with Eric.

Eric believed that a true hustler had to have more than one thing going for him. He learned that from his uncle Pumpkin, his father, Yung Black, and his cousin Russell, a.k.a. Yung Slim. So he popped off with the strippers and parties first, and then escalated into the
drug game—marijuana, mostly. He believed anything else was an omen and bad luck to him, so he left the crack, heroin, and other hard drugs to the kingpins and street dealers. He was profiting well from both businesses, and wasn't complaining. He treated people fairly and kept a low profile. To him, as long as he had a knot of money in his pocket, and his wardrobe and ride were correct, he was cool.

Eric drove into East New York early that afternoon and met up with Willy over by Atlantic Avenue. Willy was happy to see him and even happier to see product coming his way. Eric gripped the small blue duffel bag in his hand, and followed Willy into the dilapidated two-story brick building on Logan Avenue.

“What's good, niggah?” Willy greeted, giving his friend dap.

“Same ol, you got the money?” Eric asked.

“Yeah, you know I'm on point,” Willy said, pulling out a bulky bankroll from his pocket and holding it up.

Eric smiled, placed the duffle bag on the floor, unzipped it, and revealed four pounds of Hydro and Haze.

“That's what I'm talking about,” Willy uttered.

Eric glanced around, observing the area, while Willy crouched down near the bag and picked up his product. “You always got that good shit, E, fo' real.” He looked up and tossed Eric two bankrolls of big bills, fifties and hundreds.

Eric smiled, his hands going through the bills. He sold the Purple Haze for $6,000 a pound and the Strawberry Hydro went for $3,000 a pound. And Willy bought it all from Eric—$12,000 cash up front and the rest Willy got on consignment, because Eric knew he was definitely good for it.

“It's always good doing business wit' you, Willy,” Eric said.

“Yo, you keep bringing good-quality shit like this around, and you know a niggah is always gonna give you a call,” Willy said, zipping up the bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“No doubt. Yo, what's good wit' you next month?” Eric asked.

“Why you ask?”

“My cousin is coming home, and I'm throwing him this welcome-home party. I got the drinks. I got the ladies, and you know I got the strippers coming through. It's about to be on, son,” Eric proclaimed.

“Word.”

“Yeah, you know my cousin Russell? He go by Yung Slim, though.”

Willy shook his head, “Nah, name doesn't ring bells. If it ain't Brooklyn, I don't know nuthin' about it.”

“Well, anyway, I want you to come through and have a good time. You know I always got you,” he stated.

“I might just do that,” Willy said, leaning forward and giving Eric dap and a hug.

They both left the building as quickly as they came. Eric jumped into his Scion and went his way, and Willy jumped into his BMW and went his way.

Later that evening, before his date with River, Eric wanted to do some shopping, so he hit up Jamaica Avenue and the mall over on Sunrise Highway. He knew he had to look his best for tonight and spend money. He purchased a few things, including new boots—Timberlands, his preferred choice—and got a quick shape-up at his local barbershop.

 

River wanted
to look stunning for her first date with Eric. He was money, she knew it, and she also knew that he was a man with class and probably respect for himself, unlike the yo-yos she'd dated and scammed, who were loudmouths, obnoxious, rude, and had no kind of class. Eric seemed to be in a class of his own. She was kind of intrigued by him and his style, and wanted to learn more about him. But she also knew that this was work for her, and the quicker she got it over with and got that money, the better.

Her scams getting men for their jewels and money never surpassed two weeks. They trusted her after the first week, and were
willing to give her the keys to their homes and call her wifey and shit. One time, she had to fuck one of them because he was getting hip to her scheme, so she gave him some pussy and quieted him down until Big Red and Twinkie made it in and beat him down and got away with $3,500 cash money. It was the downside of the job that once in a while, she would have to hit a trick off—fuck him to keep him in the dark. But it was very rare; it'd go down like that, because River was good, the best, and she had the gift of gab.

River stared at herself in the full-length mirror that hung on her closet door and admired her chosen outfit for the night, a white leather miniskirt and matching leather halter top with open-toe heels. She loved showing off her legs, because she felt they were one of her greatest assets that got men open and so horny.

Around seven, Twinkie came to her place to pick her up and drop River off at the location where Eric was supposed to pick her up. Rule number one in her game: never bring niggahs, the bait, to her home. On the phone, she gave Eric a bogus address in Queens; she told him Rochdale, building 16, and she'd be waiting for him in the lobby. River was familiar with the place, because she had a cousin who lived near there. Twinkie picked her up and dropped her off in front of building 16, where she walked into the lobby and began to wait for her date to show. It was like butter, worked every time. But for every scam, she gave a different location—Queens, Brooklyn, Long Island, sometimes Staten Island, just to throw them off if they ever decided to come around and look for her, becoming suspicious.

She stood patiently in the lobby of building 16, clutching her purse and watching the traffic go by on the streets and the bustling movement of people in and out of the lobby. She glanced at the time and saw that it was 7:50. Twinkie was still parked nearby, observing River and waiting for her date to show up. He tuned in to stations on the radio, reclined his seat back, and chilled until River was picked up.

. . .

 

Eric was looking sharp,
dressed in a blue Rocawear button-down and some denim jeans, with new white-on-white Air Force Ones decorating his feet. He made a right on Bedell Street, rhyming along with 50 Cent's “How to Rob,” and bobbing his head to the beat. He was excited.

He pulled up to the building number she gave him, looking out for River, slowing down the ride and profiling with the ice around his wrists and fingers.

He came to a stop when he noticed River standing in the lobby. He honked his horn twice, catching her attention. She smiled, seeing Eric in his Scion, and strutted out of the lobby, turning heads. Eric quickly got out and walked over to the passenger side and, being the gentleman, opened the door for his date. He smiled as she approached.

“Damn, you look really nice,” he complimented her, eyeing her lovely figure from head to toe.

“Thank you,” River returned, smiling and hopping into the vehicle.

Eric was definitely wide-eyed at River's choice of outfit. The skirt and heels definitely did her body right. He felt a slight jump in his pants as he continued to stare. He blew air out of his mouth, got his head right, and trotted around to the driver's side. When he jumped in, he glanced at River's long refined legs crossed over each other, and tried not to stare too hard.

“You lookin' for something?” River softly asked, catching him looking at her wonderful structure.

“Me, nah . . . you know.”

“That's ayyite, they happen to do that to most men. I'm used to it,” she stated.

“You're beautiful. A man can't help but to look. It's just, you can definitely put a niggah in a trance,” Eric proclaimed.

River smiled. “Well, the only man I hope to put in a trance tonight is you.”

Eric smiled. “Oh, word. It's like that?”

“It could be.”

Eric had to control his hormones. He didn't want to look like some desperate perverted fool who had never been with a woman before. He got his head right, looked ahead, and put the car in drive.